Crossroads
by CavanahBlues
Summary: Drabbles/ ficlets centering around Raphael and Leonardo's lives. Tcest, RaphLeo centric. Rating varies with each chapter, warnings will be at the top of each update if necessary.
1. Chapter 1

They leave a little past midnight, Raphael decides to drive for the first half of the trip; too restless, anxious and with too damn much on his mind to simply sit in the passenger seat and nod off like Leonardo has.

He turns the radio on to keep him company and break the dead silence, and for the first couple of hours, it clears his mind.

As they leave the city behind, Raphael's grip tightens on the steering wheel and he struggles swallowing the lump in his throat as the reality of the situation starts to kick in.

It's happening. They're leaving their old lives behind; their friends, their family, and onward to an uncertain future. Just the two of them...

He dares a glance in Leonardo's direction. The cabin is dark and his form is mostly shrouded in darkness but he's seen Leonardo fall asleep in the car enough time to know he's probably leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and chin down into his chest.

Over the quiet rumbling of the engine, the low melody playing on the radio and the whistle of the wind, he can hear Leonardo's quiet snores with each rise and fall of his chest. On occasion, he hears him mumble something resembling words. He's heard Master Splinter's name slip more than once. He doesn't dwell on it for long and cleans the sudden hot tears with the back of his hand.

He feels frail, lost, scared... He's not the angry and brave hot-headed member of the Hamato clan anymore, nor is Leonardo it's diligent prodigy leader. It's just Leonardo and Raphael now; a pair of stray low-lives.

He places his shaking hand on Leonardo's knee and just feeling Leonardo under his calloused hand makes everything less terrifying and a little less painful. He let's out a shuddering breath and tightens his grip, holding on to Leonardo like a lifeline.

He doesn't care if this is wrong or sick or immoral. It's right to him. He just wished things had played out differently.

It's quarter to five when Leonardo wakes up. Raphael feels him squirm and lightly stretch and Raphael tilts his head to look at him. And he's transfixed by how frighteningly breakable Leonardo looks, and can't fathom what he himself looks like.

"Hey." Leonardo says, his voice low, barely over a whisper.

Raphael tries to offer a smile but fails miserably. "You okay?"

"Yeah." There's a pause. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm...alright." He says tiredly, a loud yawn quickly following.

Leonardo nods silently. "Pull over."

Raphael is far too tired to argue or even question the order, he turns on the hazard lights and steers to the right until he's off the road. Meanwhile, Leonardo has unbuckled his seat belt and sneaks in between the seats to the back of the van. Wordlessly, Raphael parks and moves over to the passenger seat, still warm with Leonardo's heat.

"Here you go." Leonardo says, the words muffled by the slice of bread in his mouth, handing Raphael a small plastic bag as he takes his seat and adjusts it to his liking.

Raphael looks at the contents, cutlery, a jar of marmalade and a bag of bread. A snarky remark is at the tip of his tongue instantaneously, something about him being in charge of the food arrangements next time, but it never makes it out.

"We have some other stuff in the back," Leonardo supplies. "I packed some cereal, if you'd like."

Raphael shakes his head. "I ain't hungry."

"You didn't eat anything before we -"

"I'm fine, Leo." Raphael cuts him off, surprised by the lack of hostility in his own voice despite his irritation. "Honest."

Leonardo faces the front and his mouth presses into a tight line, clearly upset, but he doesn't push him. With a grim smile, Raphael shifts on the seat until he's comfortable, and leaves his body in an incredibly awkward pose that has him facing the seat, away from he rising sunlight.

Swifts of Leonardo's scent roll off the polyester, Raphael closes his eyes and all he can think of is home. His room, his bike. Michelangelo and his big mouth. Donatello and his kind smile. Master Splinter and his stupid Soap Operas...

He doesn't realize he's crying until Leonardo grabs his hand. And despite his embarrassment, he can't stop. After a while, he just doesn't care, he's hiccupping and sobbing and smearing tears and who knows what else over himself and the car until he slowly falls asleep.

By the time he wakes up, the sun is setting, the road is loaded with traffic and Leonardo is still holding his hand, and Raphael wants to believe they'll be okay.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I completely forgot to add this to the previous post, these will not be in chronological order.**

He's knows for a fact there's no way he's being followed, yet he still looks over his shoulder to check—Better safe than sorry.

Like the previous five times, there's nobody, but that sense of being watched, being followed doesn't cease.

Beneath him, the floor swivels and stretches and his feet try to keep up. He doesn't feel the severity of his wounds yet, still high on adrenaline and shock, but he knows once that wears down, it'll be a world of agony.

From what he can see his arms and legs are covered in a mix of abrasions and cuts, he expects a couple bruises to color him in the following hours. He also suspects two broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder. The usual.

It's the wound on his right hand that worries him most. The bullet's lodged in deep, and, despite his best efforts, he can't move it, not even a single digit, and the implications terrify him, so he doesn't think about it.

Behind him, a thick trail of blood follows closely. He's hurt but not enough for the amount the trail's covered. Leonardo is all too aware of it, hears each droplet fall with each limping step.

He's covered in it from head to toe in crude bidirectional splatters. He remembers the origin of each strike in precise detail, chest stab, a thrust to the back of a skull, a downward swing through an outstretched arm, a throat cut, a decapitation –

His throat tightens and no, no, please no…! He can't stop the inevitable; his body collapses on its knees in a graceless stumble and he has enough sense to lean over on his good arm.

His stomach's empty already, there's nothing to expel and yet his inwards constrict painfully and he feels it burn up along his throat. His body shakes with each merciless, violent heave, and all he can do is squeeze his watering eyes tight shut and wait it for it to be over.

* * *

No matter how many times he scrubs and rinses, the rancid smell stings his senses numb and he'll feels its thick, cakey texture coating his body like a second skin.

Sometimes, he'll see it. Bright red on his hands, as if he'd dabbed them into a bucket of red paint, fresh from the kill.

He'd wash his hands raw and they'll still be there. Accusing. Branding him.

Killer, murderer, criminal, his mind easily supplies – like the Foot Clan, like the Purple Dragons, like Shredder.

At night, he sees everything play over again like a horror film. Leonardo wouldn't recognize himself if he didn't know the moves it performed by heart. The monster moves through the shadows, using the darkness like an extension of itself, deadly silent. Then it's a flash of light reflecting on metal it all turns into a havoc of shrieks, blood and corpses with judging blank eyes.

As he's shaken awake, he startles and blindly strikes out at the weight on top of him. The match ends quickly, his opponent having the upper hand from the start, and as he slowly settles into reality, he recognizes Raphael's warm, bulky body against his, pinning him to the bed.

Leonardo swallows thickly, his mouth dry. "I'm sorry." He mutters under his breath.

Raphael doesn't say anything and Leonardo is momentarily relieved until he realizes Raphael hasn't released him yet. The hands that had been holding his wrists in a punishing grip slide down the length of his arms and stroke his cheek tenderly. Leonardo leans away from the touch but Raphael traps his head between his hands and caresses the skin under his eyes with his thumbs.

He can't see Raphael in the pitch black, but he feels his hot breath tickling on his skin, the heat of his body, hear the pounding of his heart. So when Raphael presses forward for a kiss, he's ready for it. He isn't surprised to find Raphael's hardness poking into his hip. They haven't been intimate for over two weeks, and Leonardo had intended to keep it that way – at least until… until he could…

Raphael grabs his hands, puts one over his shoulder and the other to his mouth. Instantly, Leonardo locks up and he yanks his hands off of him, his finger catching on Raphael's teeth.

"The shell Leo? That hurt!" Raphael snaps as he sits up and tends to the offended area. Leonardo tries to come up with a proper excuse, but finds himself at a loss.

The lack of a response has Raphael hesitating. "Are you okay?"

Leonardo fists the bed sheets, keeping them as far from Raphael as he could and gives a short nod. "Yeah."

"Do you…want me to stop?"

"No." He manages to mutter, despite himself.

It's obvious Raphael doesn't believe him, but before Raphael can continue with his line of questioning, Leonardo draws up for another kiss and easily clears any doubts and questions away. From there, it doesn't take long before Raphael pushes Leonardo's thighs apart with his knees and brings them even closer together. Leonardo tries to loose himself in the pleasure like he's done times before but all the comfort and content he once gathered from their love making is gone.

Now, Raphael's embraces and loving words only makes the sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach worse.


End file.
